The Noble Dragon
by LostPenScribbles
Summary: Set at the very beginning of the series, this is the first scene from the story of Logain, his declaration of rebirth as the Dragon Reborn.  As of now, this is just a stand-alone scene, but I'm hoping to take it up past his fall. Reviews appreciated


"I am the Dragon Reborn."

This small whisper, nothing but a single exhale, caused a torrent of winds to blow across the crowd. Mixed emotions of cheers and gasps fell from the crowds in attendance, but the speaker heard none of it. His thoughts were his own and he waited for the inevitable. Groups of people segregated themselves amid the rising chants and isolated mutterings. The proclamation wasn't received favorably by all the present.

"Darkfriend!" came the accusation from a crouched old man, around whom many men had gathered to converse. "My lord I do not wish to say it but I will not serve."

Their hushed tones and furtive glances were the preamble to this public conviction. Little surprise that Henric would be the speaker for this group of men. Horse dealers were always silver tongued.

The proclaimed Dragon, still atop the platform in the center of the village green motioned for his accuser to come forward to the front.

"Henric, my friend have I insulted you in some way that you now treat my word like it is water?"

Of course this was not the reason, the Dragon, though not known as a powerful noble, had always been known to fulfill his duties, and his judgments had never been questioned once the reasoning became known.

"No my Lord, you have always dealt fair with myself, and I daresay there is not a person in the crowd who would say differently. But this madness- it is madness!" pleaded the now kneeling peasant.

The lord slowly turned his gaze from the man to survey the emotions that were now swirling through the crowd. His idle hands were clasped behind his back to stop him from wringing them, his shoulders stood straight and true. His head turned to and fro, gently waving his dark brown hair side to side. A good observer would notice the slight shaking of his left knees if he was able to take his eyes off of the young lords determined face. A mixture of hardness was mixed with a silent compassion, as if his face were inflamed with compassion and then doused with water to turn it to stone. No matter what these people thought of him, none of them could take their eyes off of him.

The youth's head dropped into a short bow, and then slowly rose, and now it was infused with confidence.

"My Henr... My people," the lord corrected, making eye contact with the entire crowd at once. "I have not made my decision because I wish it to be so. Indeed I do not wish it to be so!"

This last broke out as a cry, whether for forgiveness or understanding is hard to say. The air stood still and the crackling of the torches around the green was the only sound to be heard. The lord continued.

"My friends I do not wish for vain glory, I never have. I do not wish to cause pain and suffering. But pain and suffering is what our world is breeding! Already there have been three false dragons in the past years. Border disputes are popping up everywhere west of the Waste. Things are happening. The world is teetering, the pattern is straining..."

The youth looked down again to compose himself in the heavy silence. Every ear was astounded by the fountain of words issuing from their usually stoic lord. He was right in every regard. Times indeed were tough. He looked up again and a solitary tear stood vigil on is cheek. A strong voice rang out.

"But that is not enough for me to take up a mantle that is not mine. I have read the Kareathean cycle, and have had learned people talk to me through my studies on what they mean. These prophecies speak to me, they pull on me and I have a destiny that is intertwined with these events. I do not ignorantly proclaim myself. I do so because the Pattern wills it."

At this point the crowd were in awe of the man. Who was this man, who had governed them for the past years, surely this is not the same person. Never before had he spoken so vehemently or so passionately about anything. Indeed he was known for speaking little, but of sound wisdom. One by one men knelt where they were onto one knee, not with jubilation, but with a solemn head bowed.

Soon The only ones left standing were the small group still huddled around Henric.

Henric too was touched by his lord's speech, but a sound mind kept him from rashly bending knee to this man.

"My lord I have but one more question: what makes you different from the false dragons you have mentioned?"

A shadow crossed the professed's eyes and he spoke in a whisper that seemed to come from every direction.

"You all know the story of the Dragon. How he saved us. And then how he destroyed our world as we knew it. His power came from the One Power, from _saidin_. I can channel."

Throughout this speech the wind began to pick up, to howl, but the lord's voice never changed, and his words came from every direction. The fires of the torches struggled against the force of the wind, until finally the wind subsided.

Henric looked up in a mixture of awe and fear, but couldn't meet his lord's eyes. He immediately dropped to his knee, head bowed almost to the ground.

"My Lord Dragon..." was all he could croak out.

The youth looked around, his face resigned, he knew his fate.

"I come to bring warfare and strife wherever I go. I will be feared. I will be hated. But this is the only way the world may be saved. I am Logain Ablar, and I am the Dragon Reborn."


End file.
